


Sugar Plum

by WakeUpDreaming



Series: Holiday Shenanigans: Holiday Collection 2016 [2]
Category: Scorpion (TV 2014)
Genre: A little angst, Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy, F/M, Family talk, Holidays, a little fluff, flangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8620969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WakeUpDreaming/pseuds/WakeUpDreaming
Summary: The origins of the nickname sugar plum.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [southernbookgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/southernbookgirl/gifts).



> For my dear southernbookgirl, who always gives such thoughtful reviews and could not be kinder. Happy Thanksgiving, dear!

“What is this?” Happy asks from the corner of her mouth.

Toby, eyes still locked on the ballet, “Shh.”

“Why do they barely speak?”

Toby pokes her in the arm. “Stop talking.”

Happy falls back against the couch. “It’s not like they can hear us.”

Toby huffs, turning to Happy with an expression of exasperation. “Seriously?”

“I don’t get it!” Happy says, throwing her hands up in the air. “They aren’t talking, they’re dancing, and there’s a rat?”

“He’s the villain,” Toby explains. He starts to pout. “You don’t like it?”

Happy isn’t sure how to respond – she hadn’t realized how important this was to him, but now she’s worried she read this really, really, incorrectly.

“Um,” is the response she settles on.

He looks conflicted, frustrated. “Okay.”

“No, look, we can watch it,” Happy says, trying to figure out how to react to something like this. “It’s good. Really.”

But she watches as Toby curls up on himself with disappointment.

“I screwed up,” she says, panicking. “How do I fix this?”

“Nothing to fix,” Toby says, and Happy can tell he’s not telling everything. “Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing!” Happy says, exasperated. “I screwed up. Not you.” She hates how this happens, every single time. Both of them apologize for things that aren’t their fault, and then they skip over it, pretend it didn’t happen. “What did I do?”

Toby looks like he’s fighting some sort of internal battle, but he finally looks at her. “My mom and I used to watch this,” he says quietly. “At least once a season she’d be okay, and she’d remember that this was our tradition.” He fiddles with a loose thread on his shirt. “And we’d watch it, tape it on a VHS or find it on TV somewhere.”

Toby doesn’t talk about his mother – ever.

“Oh,” Happy says, and she hopes he knows she understands. That she wishes she could take back her reaction.

“I just thought,” he starts curling up on himself, but Happy reaches for his hand and he doesn’t pull away, “I thought, since we’re engaged and planning on having a family,” he shrugs, “it could be our tradition, too.” He looks up at her. “You know, I’ve always called you sugar plum.”

“The nickname makes more sense now,” she says. She squeezes his hand, and he squeezes back. Happy shifts closer to him, trying not to push too far or make him uncomfortable, but he pulls her even closer. She throws her legs over his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. “Sorry I don’t understand ballet.”

“You’re not as cultured or posh as I am,” Toby replies. She can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s not your fault.”

“Don’t make this East Coast versus West Coast,” Happy mumbles, fumbling for the remote. “I know where you’re going with this.”

He starts humming Empire State of Mind, and Happy rolls her eyes. “Yeah, I definitely liked the ballet stuff better.” She turns it back on again. “I can learn to like it all around.”

When they get to the Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy, and Happy decides she can definitely tolerate this, once a year. And it’ll probably be easier to understand once she sees it a couple of times. Or after a couple glasses of spiked egg nog.

“Think our kids will like this show?” Happy asks when it ends, half asleep in Toby’s arms.

“They better,” Toby replies, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “They’ll take after you for looks, they better take after me in culture.”

“Our kids can’t be leather-wearing ballet-watching geniuses?” Happy asks. “Why not?”

“Because they’d be both the ones beating kids up and the ones getting beat up,” Toby says, sounding matter of fact. “And that’s a paradox I just couldn’t understand.”

“I never beat anybody up,” Happy replies. “I mean, unless they swung first. Then I let them have it.”

Toby chuckles, low and knowing. “Not surprised to hear that. Now, quiet. We have your Christmas tradition now.”

Happy stares at him. “What?”

He grins. “Telling me to kiss you.”

She half laughs, but she pulls him close until their lips meet, smiling into the kiss. “I think you like this tradition best.”

He laughs against her lips. “It’s a tie.”


End file.
